The doctor looked at him. “I believe you,” he said. “Now listen. In this case, a dose limited to fifteen drops has been confounded with a dose of two table-spoonsful; and the drug taken by mistake is strychnine. One grain of the poison has been known to prove fatal--she has taken three. The convulsion fits have begun. Antidotes are out of the question--the poor creature can swallow nothing. I have heard of opium as a possible means of relief; and I am going to get the instrument for injecting it under the skin. Not that I have much belief in the remedy; but I must try something. Have you courage enough to hold her, if another of the convulsions comes on in my absence?” “Will it relieve her, if I hold her?” Amelius, asked. “Certainly.” “Then I promise to do it.” “Mind! you must do it thoroughly. There are only two women upstairs; both perfectly useless in this emergency. If she shrieks to you to be held, exert your strength--take her with a firm grasp. If you only touch her (I can’t explain it, but it is so), you will make matters worse.” The servant ran downstairs, while he was speaking. “Don’t leave us, sir--I’m afraid it’s coming on again.” “This gentleman will help you, while I am away,” said the doctor. “One word more,” he went on, addressing Amelius. “In the intervals between the fits, she is perfectly conscious; able to listen, and even to speak. If she has any last wishes to communicate, make good use of the time. She may die of exhaustion, at any moment. I will be back directly.” He hurried to the door. “Take my cab,” said Amelius, “and save time.” “But the young lady--” “Leave her to me.” He opened the cab door, and gave his hand to Sally. It was done in a moment. The doctor drove off. Amelius saw the servant waiting for them in the hall. He spoke to Sally, telling her, considerately and gently, what he had heard, before he took her into the house. “I had such good hopes for you,” he said; “and it has come to this dreadful end! Have you courage to go through with it, if I take you to her bedside? You will be glad one day, my dear, to remember that you cheered your mother’s last moments on earth.” Sally put her hand in his. “I will go anywhere,” she said softly, “with You.” Amelius led her into the house. The servant, in pity for her youth, ventured on a word of remonstrance. “Oh, sir, you’re not going to let the poor young lady see that dreadful sight upstairs!” “You mean well,” Amelius answered; “and I thank you. If you knew what I know, you would take her upstairs, too. Show the way.”